


shadow of the past

by Potrix



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fatherhood, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Sappy Ending, Soft Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: Neil looks older, greyer, but that’s about all that’s changed. How different Billy must look to his father, though, after so long; a grown man instead of the scared teenager he’d been the last time they saw each other, Billy’s split lip still bleeding as he hauled his duffel into the Camaro where Steve was already waiting, answering Neil’s seething, “Don’t you dare come back home if you walk away from me right now!” with a trembling but equally furious, “Don’t worry, I fucking won’t!”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 18
Kudos: 163
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	shadow of the past

**Author's Note:**

> **Harringrove Week of Love Day 3: Hurt/Comfort**
> 
> This is what immediately popped into my head for the hurt/comfort prompt. Honestly, if it involves hurt, it probably also has to involve Neil.
> 
> (Fuck that guy.)
> 
> And make sure to go and have a look at the other works in the collection as well, while you're at it. 10/10, highly recommend.

Billy fucking hates Hawkins. 

It might not be overrun with interdimensional monsters and crazy Russians anymore, but it’s somehow still all gloomy and grim-looking. And really fucking cold.

They’ve been here for less than two days, but Billy’s pretty sure his California tan is already fading.

Grumbling to himself, Billy adjusts Matty to sit more comfortably on his hip, only to nearly lose his grip on his overflowing basket. Just a few things, Steve had said, pressing the list into Billy’s hand, and a kiss to his cheek. A few things his ass. He should’ve grabbed a damn cart. 

“Your dad’s a dumbass,” he tells Matty, who’s half-asleep on his shoulder, and drooling all over the collar of his leather jacket. 

Yet here Billy is, having braved the Indiana cold, nearly freezing his balls off, to get Steve his fancy, dairy-free yoghurt, so. Who really is the dumb one? 

He’s standing in the fruit section, trying to remember if Steve likes tangerines or clementines, and also what the fucking difference between the two is anyway, when he hears a gruff, “Billy?”

Billy freezes, but only for a second, before he whirls around, and comes face to face with the very last person he wants to see right now. Or ever, really.

Neil looks older, greyer, but that’s about all that’s changed. How different he must look to his father, though, after so long; a grown man instead of the scared teenager he’d been the last time they saw each other, Billy’s split lip still bleeding as he hauled his duffel into the Camaro where Steve was already waiting, answering Neil’s seething, “Don’t you dare come back home if you walk away from me right now!” with a trembling but equally furious, “Don’t worry, I fucking won’t!” 

And he hasn’t. 

Billy can count on one hand the times he’s come back to Hawkins over the last decade. Max’s high school graduation. Joyce and Hopper’s wedding. Max and Lucas’ engagement. Last summer, a few weeks after Matty’d been born, so Steve’s parents could meet and spoil their first grandbaby. 

And every time, he’d been careful to avoid Cherry Lane, and the shadow of his past still living there. 

Max mentions Neil and Susan, sometimes, around the holidays, or if something big happens. But Billy hasn’t talked to either of them in nearly ten years. 

Only now, Neil is right here, standing a mere few feet away, eyes flickering from Billy’s face down to Matty and back up. A little hysterically, Billy wonders if Neil even knows that his only son has had a kid of his own.

The tense, awkward silence stretches between them when Billy doesn’t say anything, until Neil eventually clears his throat, and asks, with a nod at Matty, “That’s Matthew?”

Well, he should’ve guessed. Everyone in Hawkins has always been up in everyone else’s business. 

Instinctively, Billy holds Matty a little closer against his side. “Matty, yeah.” 

“Hi, Matty.” Neil ducks down to speak to Matty, who glances up curiously at the sound of his name. Neil fucking smiles, and wiggles his fingers at Matty. “Hi, there, little guy.” 

Billy clenches his teeth, and resists the urge to take a step back as Neil keeps cooing at Matty. They’re in public, which means they’re safe. Billy’s a grown ass man, he can keep them both safe, if need be.

Besides, it’s not as if Billy doesn’t remember this side of his father, the nice and playful one. Vaguely, from before, when his mom had still been around, but he does remember. Baseball games, ice cream on hot summer days, long drives along the beach. 

They should be happy memories, probably, but to Billy, they just make all the other, bad ones even worse. 

“Is he—” Neil starts as he straightens back up, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment, he settles on, “He yours?”

And Billy knows what he means, of fucking course he does. But he’s not about to give Neil the satisfaction, so he grins, too wide, and says, “Mine and Steve’s, yeah.” 

He expects anger, at that, or disgust at the very least. What he gets is an expression he can’t read, not anymore, not after all this time. It crosses Neil’s face, there and gone again, before he nods slightly. “And Steve,” Neil asks, running a hand through his hair, “how is he?”

But Billy. 

Billy’s done. Just like that, he’s over whatever Neil’s trying to do here, whatever it is he fucking wants. 

Shaking his head, Billy grits out, “Gotta go,” and turns, skin prickling with the weight of Neil’s gaze on the back of his neck. He makes it to the end of the aisle, but stops, not turning back around, when Neil calls, “Billy, wait.”

“What,” Billy barks, shoulders tense. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the basket too tightly. 

“If you want,” Neil sounds uncharacteristically hesitant, cuts himself off, then tries again, “Susan would love to meet the kid.” 

Billy doesn’t even know what to say to that, so he just leaves.

Leaves Neil standing there without a glance back, pays for his groceries, and gets the hell out. 

He makes it back to the house in record time, although he can’t recall most of the drive. He drops the bag of food on the kitchen table with a thump, earning himself a raised brow, and a concerned, “Hey, man, you okay?” from Lucas. 

Billy opens his mouth, closes it again, then ends up shaking his head, and murmuring a quiet, “Sorry,” as he disappears into the guest room with Matty. 

He kicks off his shoes, and slips out of his jacket, then lowers himself down onto the bed with Matty curled up on his chest, thankfully fast asleep. He should put him down in the portable crib in the corner for his nap, probably, but he doesn’t. 

Doesn’t want to let go just yet.

Instead, he buries his nose in the mess that is Matty’s curls, breathes in his comforting baby scent, and closes his eyes.

Billy has no idea how long he stays like that, half-dozing to the steady rhythm of Matty’s breathing, before the bedroom door opens, then closes again quietly. He doesn’t open his eyes, listens to familiar steps cross the room, then feels the bed dip. 

A hand brushes over his cheek, tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear. A pair of lips lands on his forehead, and lingers there for a moment before Steve whispers, “What happened?”

Billy doesn’t answer, but he does blink open his eyes to look up at Steve. He looks worried, chewing his bottom lip, though he comes easily when Billy holds out an arm, snuggling into his side with a pleased little hum that morphs into a happy sigh when Billy kisses the top of his head. 

Steve’s hand is on Billy’s hip, where his shirt has ridden up, thumb absently, softly stroking the skin there. Back and forth, slow and steady. Casually, just because he can. Because he wants to. 

“Neil,” Billy blurts, but that’s all he manages before his throat closes up. His eyes sting, suddenly, and he sniffles, face hot and flushed. “Fuck.” 

Steve’s sitting up in an instant, face stormy. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he mutters darkly, scowling furiously, and for some reason, that’s what loosens the knot of tension in Billy’s chest. 

He relaxes, and then he laughs, and can’t stop, even when Steve looks at him as if he’s gone crazy. It makes Matty stir, so Billy claps a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter as the tears finally spill over. 

“Oh, baby,” Steve whispers, moving back in close enough to kiss Billy’s damp cheeks. “What happened?”

“That’s the thing,” Billy croaks, and moves his hand to rub at his eyes. “Nothing did. Not a fucking thing. We just. Talked.” 

Steve listens quietly while Billy relays his encounter with Neil, one hand splayed across Matty’s back, and the other over Billy’s heart. And when Billy’s done, Steve pulls both him and Matty into his arms without a word, just holding them both in silent support, exactly the way Billy wants. 

Exactly the way Billy needs. 

And when he asks, “Do you want to go? To visit your dad and Susan?” and Billy says, “No, absolutely not,” he doesn’t call Billy out on his lie, even though they can both hear the uncertainty in his wobbly voice. 

Billy falls asleep eventually, still wrapped up in Steve, surrounded by warmth and comfort, with his son cradled in his arms, safe and secure.

It’s just turning dark when he wakes back up, alone in the bed. Steve isn’t far, though, standing by the dresser made makeshift changing table on the other side of the room, redressing a happily babbling Matty after changing him. Matty shrieks with glee when Steve blows a raspberry on his chubby cheek, and Steve is laughing, talking back in that stupid baby speak that drives Billy up the wall, and Billy—

“Stevie,” Billy rasps, and he can feel the dumb, besotten smile spread over his face when Steve turns to look at him, “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works), or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com).


End file.
